


ain't no sunshine (when she's gone)

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Arguments, F/M, Forgiveness, Heartache, True Love, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:05:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: "He had made her dinner. A candlelight dinner. He had cooked for her, waited for her, hanging on her promise… and she’d forgotten. Their anniversary… she’d forgotten." [bughead, angst]





	ain't no sunshine (when she's gone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bettytail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettytail/gifts).



> idea inspired by my dear friend. now, this isn't exactly the break-up fic we'd discussed, but it literally morphed into a completely different story than i intended
> 
> unbeta'd - slight nsfw
> 
> please forgive errors

 

 

 

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“Love means to have the_  
>  _worst argument with someone_  
>  _and realize you’d rather have_  
>  _that argument with them_  
>  _than not have them in you life.”_  
>  _—unknown_
> 
>  ◯

They live in a drab little apartment, in the less than admirable part of Charlotte, North Carolina. There are stains on the ceiling and tears in the carpets and a leaky tub, all of which go ignored by the landlord. Betty interns from four in the morning to noon at the local news station, trying to earn her place as a reporter. From one to nine every other day, she works as a waitress in a dive-bar.

Jughead writes. At least, he tries to.

He works shitty hours at a fast food joint—the only place that had contacted him after weeks of applying places when moving with Betty. Fresh out of college, she’d asked him if he would be willing to start a life with her in North Carolina. Away from Riverdale and the Serpents, where he’d been making the most of his money from and suppressing his potential by avoiding college.

The strain to their relationship—the few off and on’s they’ve endured since first getting together as young kids in love, it’s become a bit of a running joke with Archie any time it’s brought up through conversation on skype or generic phone calls. Jughead thinks the phrase _‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’_ hits the mark, because all he and Betty have done since he’s moved here has been argue.

She’s overwhelmed with her workload, and determined to do more. Always more, more, _more_. Jughead is underwhelmed with his. He can’t type a single thought onto his laptop because the static of life’s responsibilities hang heavily over him. The burger joint is a pain. Not because the free food— _obviously not—_ but because of the people. Surrounded by freckled face teenagers and rude customers for three to five hours a day is less than desirable.

Betty can see the circles more prominent under his eyes, she can feel the tension in the air every time he sits at his desk with his laptop. When he runs a hand through his hair, he’s thinking of ideas. When his fingers clench his hair, he’s completely out of them, and frustrated. When he stares blank faced at the equally blank screen, he’s given up completely.

His remarks to her schedule are ones she tries to deflect with a smile and feigned ignorace. The _“When are you going to take a day off?”,_ _“We should go out on Saturday. Down EpiCenter or something.”, “When’s the last time we even went out, Betts?_ Really _went out?”._ God, she wants to spend time with him, too. She does. But their rent is hard enough to manage as is, and she’s _so_ close to landing a permanent position for WBTV, it’s as if she’s acquired tunnel vision.

Slowly, ever so slowly, a raw, knotted type of feeling starts twisting in her gut. Betty wakes up some nights to find the other side of the bed empty, and when she pads down the hall, Jughead’s sleeping form on the couch makes her stomach turn in the worst of ways. His pillow missing and a sheet tugged over him, his nights spent voluntarily on the couch grow frequenter and frequenter.

“Why didn’t you come to bed last night?” she’ll ask at three in the morning when she gets up to get ready and he stirs awake to empty his bladder like some type of ritual they’ve developed without meaning to.

His response is always the same. A light shrug and a flop to the now vacant bed she no longer lies in. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

Betty doesn’t tell him she doesn’t mind being woken up. Never to him, or the feel of his arms wrapped securely around her.

He also starts to change his responses to her questioning how his days go. From descriptive recounts of his job to simple “ _it was fine.”,_ she’d be a fool not to notice the shift.

She’s losing him, Betty realizes on the fourth month of his being there with her; when she catches mid conversation with him the revelation that his mom has moved back to Riverdale and is awaiting FP’s release from jail. Her eyes go wide on the couch and Jughead stops talking, looking at her strangely before realization kicks in, his face going blank. “You weren’t listening to me when I told you last week.”

“N-no!” Betty had shaken her head, heart racing and guilt creeping up her chest and into her throat. “Yes. I—Juggie, I’m so sorry. I’ve just been so busy lately, I guess I didn’t—“

“Yeah.” He cuts her off with a tone she only ever hears him use with people he wants to be done speaking with. He’s hurt. “Forget about it, Betts. I’m going to pick up some dinner. Finish your writing.”

Laptop on her lap, script for her morning’s assignment halfway written, Betty had sat completely still as he got up and left without so much as a goodbye or invitation for her to accompany him.

She promised him that night that she was going to leave her shift early the upcoming Friday—as it was to be their eight year anniversary—sort of; brushing their few break-ups in between to the side. Those had been in high school, so to Betty, they don’t count. Jughead’s mood had completely lifted after her adamant promise, his arms curling around her until they tumbled together in a sea of sheets. He had slept curled around her that night.

Now, it’s Friday.

And Betty feels frozen when she walks into their apartment and spots an arrangement of a homemade dinner on the table. One plate is bare, untouched. The other is messy and stained with the food that’s sitting cold in the middle of the table, a waned candle beside it. Next to that, an empty beer bottle sits and Betty clutches the doorframe, feeling a hurricane of guilt and self-loathing spin inside her.

Her head turns to see Jughead on a recliner in the living room, his blue eyes on her and another nursed beer in his hand. He’s leaned back, an expressionless look on his face. Nothing given away.

Betty closes the door behind her and bites her lip, taking a step forward. “Jug…”

“You know,” he speaks up, ignoring her cracked voice. Leaning forward, he takes a drink from the beer, finishing it off before continuing. “The price of lamb shank in this city is ridiculous. Sixty-eight dollars for four pounds? Insanity.”

“Juggie—“ her voice catches as her eyes flicker to the table again.

He had made her dinner. A candlelight dinner. He had cooked for her, _waited_ for her, hanging on her promise… and she’d forgotten. Their _anniversary_ … she’d _forgotten_. The excitement from earlier when offered a permanent position at the station, it’s completely vanished. Nonexistent now.

“What am I doing here, Betty?” Jughead asks, drying up the words on her tongue as she stands, at a loss for them. His jaw clenches as he places his empty bottle on the floor before standing up, eyes narrowed but filled with hurt he’d earlier tried to conceal from her.

“W-What…” Betty stammers, her body chilling over at his tone. “What do you—“

“What am I doing here, Betty?” He repeats, more firmly this time as the ugly coldness inches through her veins. “In Charlotte? In this apartment?”

Betty’s felt hurt before, but not like this. It hits her in hard waves as dread stirs inside her. This moment has been building for some time now, but the reality of it happening now can’t be put into words. There’s just panic. Panic and guilt and desperation. “I’m so sorry. God, Jughead, I—They offered me a position today, and I just— _Please_ ,”

His face softens only slightly, but it kicks her legs into gear as she lets her purse fall to her floor, striding up to him and cupping his jaw as her eyes burn. “I’m so sorry.”

“Betty.” Jughead’s voice catches, and the pain in his eyes match how she feels, only breaking her further as she shakes her head. He speaks, despite her fear of what he’ll say. “What am I doing _here_? Huh? Tell me.”

“You’re… Jughead, you’re… with me.” Betty answers, tears slipping down her cheeks as her hands move down to clench at his collar.

“Doing what?” he presses, eyes flickering over her features as his face pinches. “I’m twenty-four. Working at a fast food dump with only a high school diploma to my name. My family is states away and the only person who doesn’t annoy me is a seventeen-year-old kid I work with. I don’t know anyone—“

“You know me.” She argues weakly, understanding his level of frustration and struggle.

“You’re never _home_ , Betty!” Jughead fires back, not with malice in his voice, but rather accepted defeat, and somehow it makes her feel so much worse. “Jesus, I don’t know the last time we even went on a date or did something other than sit on the couch and talk for fifteen minutes before one of us passes out! You think that’s a life worth living, day in and day out?”

“Of course!” she counters, a bit more earnest to her voice as tears cling to her eyelashes. “Of course, I do! I love you! I _love_ you.”

“Do you?” Jughead whispers, gaze piercing as her hands fall from his collar in shock. Shock, not at the question, but at the honest unsurity of it. Shaking his head, he scoffs without a hint of humor and lifts his arms up slightly. “We don’t talk like we used to. We hardly have sex anymore. We don’t go out… All you do is work. And even when you’re not working, your mind is _on_ work.”

Betty feels her breathing increase as her throat tightens unbearably, because he’s right. He’s right.

“And what do I do?” he scoffs, “Wait around for hours on end in hopes I’ll catch a few moments with my girlfriend in our _own_ home? What was the point of me moving here, of ditching a long-distance relationship if we’re still stuck in one? _Hell_ , we talked more when we were in separate states!”

“Stop.” She whispers. His words are cutting, each one like a bullet to her heart. Betty shakes her head rapidly, blonde strands falling from the bun atop her head. “Stop talking like this. I’ve just been busy lately, I know, but it’s temporary— _was_ temporary! And you moved here because you love me! You… you still love me…” her breathing hitches as she swallows thickly, “I’m sorry, Jughead. I just—I just forgot. Please forgive me.”

Jughead stares at her for one long moment before running a hand over his face and grunting out a heavy exhale. “I need to… think.”

“Think?” Betty’s heart drops and clenches in her chest, fear immobilizing her until her lips part slightly and she takes an involuntary step back before gaining her footing and grabbing his arms. Brows furrowed, she stares heavily at him, heart now picked up and racing beneath her breast. “Think about what? What is there to think about? I love you. Your job is temporary. I can put in a word at the station and—“

“ _God_ , I don’t need charity, Betty!” He steps away, walking past her as he grabs his jacket off the couch. “I should’ve just stayed in Riverdale. I’m never going to belong anywhere, let’s just face it.”

“Stop it!” Betty cries out, angry at his resigned words. She moves in front of him, blocking his path to the door. Grabbing his hand with both of hers, she presses it to the middle of her chest, above her heart. “You belong _here_! You’re always going to belong here. So don’t—“ the words catch as her throat closes. “…don’t go. Stay, with me.”

Jughead’s face tightens with grief, her words reaching some part of him in his hurt and anger. He swallows thickly as one hand moves to his jaw and she presses her lips to his firmly, letting them drag over chapped skin when she breathes out in earnest, “I’m sorry…I love you. Stay with me.”

Jughead doesn’t respond at first, but after a few seconds, his lips move against hers and she makes a choked sort of sound in relief as her arms move to wrap around his neck. Their kiss is heady, heavy… full of emotion, both love and pain.

But Jughead pulls away and it’s over all too soon.

Betty blinks her eyes back open and stares in confusion as his lips dip in a deep grimace. She moves her mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out.

“I…” He hesitates briefly before stepping out of her embrace and walking to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Betty’s frozen in place. Her chest has gone hollow, and her feet are glued to the floor, not quick enough to catch him before he’s out the door and gone. _Think_ , he’d said. He has to think. About them—about _her_. Clutching a hand to her chest, harrowing breaths escaping her, she chokes on her sobs before clasping another hand to her mouth to muffle them. Her heart feels shattered and her chest hollow, yet constricted.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silent room, reminding her of all the time lost these past months. She knows Jughead has every reason to be upset. She’s been a horrible girlfriend lately, never a hundred percent really _here_.

The idea of losing him, though… Betty doesn’t even want to think of it.

So, she doesn’t.

No, Betty begins to busy herself. She cleans up the table, putting food in tupperware and stashing it in the fridge before washing the soaking pans and plates in the sink. She wipes the counters and sweeps, and then puts her purse away before jumping into the shower.

She uses Jughead’s body wash and finds the tears springing up again at the thought of his mint and pine scent being absent from her life. Finally, it reaches 2 A.M., and he’s still not back. And for the first time ever, Betty dials both of her works and calls in.

Her sickness is easy to fake because her nose is stuffy and puffed from the crying. Neither place says a word against her, only wishing her well before she can come in the following day. When Betty finally slides into bed, Jughead’s torn and well worn ‘S’ shirt on, she succumbs to the ache once more and cries.

It feels like only mere seconds when there are hands on her waist, jostling her. Betty stiffens, only to see Jughead sliding onto the bed by her legs. Looking to the clock, she notices it’s past four, and she must’ve fallen asleep. Her hair sticks to her cheek and his fingers are there suddenly, brushing the strands back and behind her ear.

Betty grabs his hand and exhales deeply before he speaks up.

“You’re late for work.”

Her eyes hold his own as she fights to urge to cry at the guarded expression he holds with her. “I called in.”

The only indication he’s surprised by this is the slight raise of his brows.

“Jug,” she starts, her gaze earnest and voice scratchy from sleep but heavy with emotion. “I am _so_ sorry. For…for _everything_. I know this isn’t an ideal situation, the way things have been. But I just—you need to know I would do _anything_ for you. I—“

“Betty, stop.” Jughead cuts her off gently, looking down with a sigh. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I… I understand. About your work, I do. You’ve always been headstrong and passionate about your career. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

“My priorities _could_ do with some refreshing, though.” Betty mutters in a soft joke, gaining the tiniest curve of his lip.

“I’ve just been so frustrated.” He rubs a hand over his face, his movements heavy with fatigue. “With where I’m at in life. With my writing…my family…”

“And I was wrong to not be there for you, like I should’ve.” She tells him sincerely, knowing he doesn’t owe her an apology. Not for this. “You are everything to me, Jughead Jones.” At the flicker of insecure doubt, she grips his chin lightly and holds his gaze. “You _are_. I would do anything for you. I am so sorry for not being there for you through this—for not being here. _Really_ being here.”

Jughead’s shoulders lose some tension as they dip, and the lines around his eyes fade away when his gaze softens at her honest confession. His hand clenches her bare thigh, and he speaks quietly. “You’re everything to me, too, Betty. I’m sorry I said those things earlier. I was…upset.”

“It’s okay, Juggie.”

“It’s not.” He shakes his head. “Hurting you is the last thing I want to do. Ever.”

“I hurt you.” Betty counters with a slight crack to her voice as the reminder makes her stomach turn.

The hand on her thigh tightens and blue eyes keep her from looking away. “This isn’t eye for an eye, Betts. I don’t want our relationship to be that way.”

“I’m sorry.” She repeats in a whisper, so honest, so full of emotion and wanting nothing more than to weave her way into his skin, desperate to be as close as possible to him.  

Jughead gaze is intense. “Me, too.”

They stare in silence at one another for another few moments before he dips his head and kisses her slowly.

Betty cries out softly in near tangible relief, palming his cheeks and parting her lips to press her tongue against his. “I want you forever.” She tells him against their locked lips. “Any job, no job, home or a box on the street, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t—“

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jughead breathes out heavily against her lips, pushing her slowly onto her back before he fingers the waistband of her panties and drags them down her legs. When he makes love to her, his shirt on her stays on, pushed up past her breasts. His pelvis presses her hard into the mattress with each stroke of his hips. Her fingers move down between them to grip the base of his member, leaving messy patterns over sensitive flesh as he picks up the pace and fucks her, deep and passionate.

“I love you,” Betty moans breathlessly against his open mouth hovering over hers. “I want you…I— _Oh_! I need you. I need—“

“ _Fuck_ , Betty.” He grunts, forearm flush against her ear and cheek. “I…love—“

When the height of their pleasure fades into a gentle thrum, Jughead falls to his side and pulls Betty close. She vows silently to work on her priorities. She vows to put in the same amount of effort Jughead gives to their relationship.

Betty kisses his chest and presses herself even tighter against him, wanting all parts of her skin to be touching his.

“I quit my job.” Jughead says, dropping the information without warning. “That’s where I went. To give my manager my two weeks.”

“Are you…” Licking her lips, her eyes drift up to his. “You’re staying though, aren’t you? Here…with me?”

Jughead lifts his hand and drags a finger across the apple of her cheek, gaze tender. “I’m not going anywhere, Betty.”

Her body feels lighter at his honest response, and she nods once before sighing contentedly into his chest. “Then we’ll figure out the rest later. Together.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, lips quirking. “Together.”

“Stay with me for tonight?” Betty asks sleepily, her eyelids becoming heavy at the comfort and security he gives her naturally.

Jughead kisses her head and drags his palm down her bare back.

“Every night.”


End file.
